


Shot to the Heart

by mizface



Category: due South
Genre: Crack, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love and Bullets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot to the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Bullets challenge on ds_flashfiction.

Damn! Why was it grazes always hurt so bad? Like the gun equivalent of a paper cut, and just as annoying. Ray leaned back against the dumpster, and glared at his partner. Fraser didn't even notice, of course, too focused on the gunman to feel the laser beams Ray was sure would melt his glasses, if he'd bothered to put them on. He kicked at Fraser's boot while digging into his pocket for them, and without looking over Fraser answered his unspoken question. 

"Just the one, stationed at approximately eleven o'clock. Based on the number of rounds fired, he should need to reload -" Fraser started up from his crouch, but ducked again at the sound of another shot - "soon."

"Keep down, Fraser. Jeez, if you’re not gonna carry, you need to let me do the looking." And at that he popped up, targeted, shot, and grinned at the shout of pain he heard as he knelt again behind the dumpster.

The two exchanged a look, then slowly stood to peer over the top, relaxing as they saw the perp was down and clutching his hand, his gun a decent distance away. Ray pulled out his cell phone to call in for back-up and an ambulance, glaring at the downed man as he walked, as if to stare him into submission.

He snagged the gun and had the guy subdued and Mirandized in short order; now all they had to do was wait for the dirtbag to be picked up. The adrenaline started to wear off, and as it left Ray's body the pain crept back in, reminding him he hadn't gotten away uninjured. He looked down at his arm, and was glad to see that at least the shot was low enough that it hadn't taken out his sleeve - he loved this t-shirt. It was going to leave a scar though, and a weird-shaped one at that.

Fraser saw him looking, and must have just noticed the wound, based on the concern that immediately replaced the Mountie mask. He stopped in mid-Inuit story (to both Ray and the perp's relief) and moved closer to Ray.

"I hadn't realized - you didn't seem -"

"It's just a scratch, Frase. Nothing big - didn't even rip the shirt - see?" He held his arm out for inspection, and Fraser lightly touched it as he leaned in to take a closer look. At the touch of Fraser’s skin on his a physical shock, almost as bad as winter static electricity, went through him, down his arm, through his hand and over to Fraser, who, from the look on his face, felt it too. It was the weirdest thing Ray had ever experienced.

The sound of a siren startled them both, and Ray nearly jumped back, the movement jarring his arm. The sharp pain cleared his mind, and whatever it was he'd thought he felt receded, and irritation took over. Fraser hastily reached into his belt pouch, and Ray moved to stop him before he brought out whatever nasty-smelling thing he thought would be a cure-all. 

"Do not, I repeat, do not get that goop out. The ambulance is almost here, and the medic will take one look and say I'm fine, here's two Tylenol, have a good day. So just don't."

Fraser put the vial back, and stared hard, as if Ray was out of focus.

Understood,” he replied, turned and went looking for, Ray assumed, more evidence. Ray noticed Fraser couldn’t stop flexing the fingers of the hand that had touched him, like it had gone to sleep and he was trying to wake it.

Above them, in the shadows, a figure all in black slipped away unnoticed.

*********************

Fraser saw Ray fall back hard and go still; it took every ounce of strength he had to fight the need to rush over. He couldn’t tell from this angle whether Ray was bleeding, or for that matter, breathing. The realization hit him as hard and potentially deadly as the bullet had hit his partner. He barely registered the gunfire exchange going on around him; his entire being was focused on Ray. What seemed like a lifetime later, the shots stopped, and shouts of ”Chicago PD! Throw down your weapons!” startled him into movement.

Fraser saw Ray stir as he approached, and sped his progress, needing to keep Ray still, in case it made the injury worse. He heard Ray swear as he knelt beside him, and an automatic, “Language, Ray,” sprang forth.

Ray coughed and started to sit up, waving Fraser away as he tried to help. “S’okay, Fraser. Got me right in the vest.”

Fraser ignored Ray’s physical protestations and stood as he helped Ray to his feet.

“Indeed it did.” He looked closer and frowned. “You were lucky, Ray,” he said, and pointed to where the bullet had hit. “A bit closer and…” his voice trailed off as Ray moved to look, and Fraser’s finger brushed against the almost heart-shaped indentation left by the bullet. It sent sparks through him, sharp and sudden. Ray gasped as if he, too, felt a shock.

Their eyes met, wide and startled, and neither man moved.

The flare of a flashlight hit them then, and the two moved back, shielding their eyes. Whatever connection might have started broke with the lack of contact, and the world went back to normal in the rush of arrests.

In all the chaos, no one saw the lone figure steal out through the window. Nor did they hear the muttered curses uttered; once again, his quarry had escaped.

*********************

“Of all the lousy luck.”

“I am sorry, Ray.” Fraser opened the door of the GTO carefully and moved back to give Ray room to get out. It took some maneuvering, what with his arm in a sling and all, but Fraser refrained from helping, held back by the sheer force of Ray’s glare.

“Don’t. Just… don’t, Fraser. Wasn’t your fault. Okay, so maybe it _was_ your idea to go to that particular deli for lunch. Maybe it was _your_ eagle eyes that spotted the drug deal going on in the kitchen. And _of course_ that meant you had to jump the counter. Which also meant _I_ had to follow. And there was no way you had time to warn me about the tomatoes that one of the other guys dropped right where I was going and you know what? It was your fault.” He ended half-teasingly. Fraser, of course, only heard the other, more serious half.

“I know, Ray, and I feel terrible about it. If there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”

Ray sighed. “I know that, Fraser. Thanks. I’m just grumping at you because my arm hurts. Soon as I can take the meds the doc gave me I’ll be right as rain and feeling no pain.”

Fraser smiled and went to make sure the car was locked before they headed up to Ray’s apartment. As he turned the key, he heard an odd zinging sound, and a small noise of surprise from Ray. He looked over to see something on the sling, garish red against the white of the fabric. Ray’s eyes were wide as he looked down at the small stain, and Fraser was momentarily paralyzed by the sight. He shook it off and moved, pulling Ray toward the car, using it as a shield while he checked Ray over. Dear God, what had happened? He brusquely moved the sling aside, his subconscious noting the odd heart shape the stain had taken as he bared Ray’s chest to ascertain any damage.

Ray still hadn’t spoken, though he hadn’t lost consciousness either, a very good sign. Fraser brushed his hand over Ray’s chest and found a blood-red mark just above Ray’s heart. Fraser touched it gently, then, almost of its own volition his hand covered the area. Ray’s skin was warm beneath his hand, and he could feel the pounding of his friend’s heart.

A sudden intake of breath made him look up to see Ray watching his hand, a look of hunger and longing on his face that Fraser had never dared to hope he’d see. 

“Ray?” he whispered, afraid to shatter the moment. Ray’s gaze on him was nearly overwhelming in its intensity, and Fraser waited to see what would happen. After a long moment, Ray’s good hand came up to cover his, and as one the two men leaned in for a kiss.

*********************

“Finally!” the man on the fire escape crowed, then covered his mouth quickly, not wanting to interrupt what was promising to be a very hot make-out session. He carefully holstered his gun and made his way up the fire escape toward the roof.

Once there, he removed his jacket and stretched his wings. Ah, much better. Leather may look good, but it was hell on the feathers. This all used to be a lot easier, Cupid reflected, as he readied himself for flight. Little bow and arrow action and pow! True love.

Oh well, at least nowadays he didn’t have to wear a toga, which was _not_ the best choice when flying. Plus, bullets were a lot cheaper and easier to make than arrows ever were, so Vulcan didn’t bitch nearly as much about his lousy aim.


End file.
